Making way for change

It is a ritual many drivers have engaged in since shortly after the invention of the automobile:  the cleaning out of the former car to turn in as a trade-in on a newer model. I am, in a manner of speaking, between cars as my eight-year old Malibu is about to leave its’ home in the family driveway to make way for another Chevy.  I made the deal at a local dealership, and I spent a good part of the weekend clearing out eight years of life inside my car.

 I started in the front seat with a box and a plastic bag.  The box was to save things and the bag was for throwing things away.  I cleared out my bucket seat armrest where a half dozen compact discs were inside. 

Underneath the driver’s seat I found a lost Blue tooth from my cell phone.  I retrieved four empty water bottles from under the front passenger seat.

 I worked my way to the backseat where I gathered four coat hangers, two golf balls, and about a half ream of paper from various work and non-profit volunteer assignments.  There was also a throw pillow my wife would use when she drove the car.

 The trunk, as you might expect, was loaded with stuff.  Out came the golf clubs, pull cart, another four golf balls, a dozen golf tees, and a golfer’s organizer that my wife gave me one Father’s Day.  The irony on having something to keep my golf equipment organized is not lost on me. 

 I also found four audio books that I must have listened to sometime over the past eight years along with a coffee cup and saucer that must have been a Secret Santa gift from work one year.   These items went into a new grocery store bag designated for donation to charity.  I also found two full bottles of water and two legal pads. 

 In the trunk, I also kept a set of snow chains that I never used and an air pump that is powered by the cigarette lighter.  Both will move to the other car.

 So as I was about finished with this part of the car, I had one grocery store plastic bag filled with stuff to throw away.  The box of stuff to save was filled. 

 But on the wild chance there might be something in the spare tire well, I removed the trunk flooring where the spare is kept. 

 I now know that spare tire wells are where golf items go to die.  Inside the well, I found three more golf balls, two golf scorecards, eight golf scoring pencils, and at least two-dozen golf tees.  Add to that a dozen pens, about forty-cents in change, and a bottle of hand lotion I got from a hotel room and I was just now just about finished.

 With a sweep of a broom, and a final inspection, I think the deed was done. 

 The Malibu was the first car I purchased in California.  I had not owned a Chevy since college.  I took a chance it would provide me with safe and reliable transportation during my first years in the Golden State.  It did.

 I drove it to Sacramento the first night I owned it.  I drove it to Hollywood to see the Walk of Fame.  It crossed the San Francisco Bay Bridge too many times to count.  We drove it through the Rocky Mountains to visit my daughter one Christmas.

 I immortalized the Malibu in the book "9 From 99- Experiences in California’s Central Valley".  There’s a publisher’s note on the back of the second edition of the book that reads: “Steve Newvine has logged over 100,000 California roadways with the bulk of them on Highway 99.”

 And the bulk of those 100,000 miles logged on California roads were behind the wheel of my safe and reliable Malibu.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced. 

The Moon Rock and Memories

The Moon Rock and Memories

The picture seems just right for a guy who fell in love with the space program as a kid growing up in the 1960's. Taken by Joseph Minafra Of Lockheed Martin, there's a smiling yours truly holding a moon rock picked up by one of the astronauts during Apollo 16. Joseph and another colleague from Lockheed, were in Atwater on June 10 for the twentieth anniversary celebration of the Challenger Learning Center on the grounds of the former Castle Air Force Base.

Growing up during the formative years of America's race to the moon, I remember most of the rocket launches. All were televised by the three networks in these pre-cable saturation days. Whether you liked it or not, a NASA launch was the only thing on.

But I liked it. I was amazed by the firepower of those rockets. I took in with great interest the grainy video of John Glenn and his fellow astronauts. The Mercury program started things for US manned space flight. Gemini followed, and it would lead into the Apollo program. It seemed as thought I watched every launch.

The television anchormen and reporters who covered the launches were filled with the sense of excitement that this was a really special, truly American, accomplishment. Back in the 1960’s, no other country, save for the Soviet Union, was even coming close to achieving what the United States was accomplishing with the space program.

The enthusiasm endured even as the nation continued to get mired down in the tragedy of Vietnam. But a setback in 1967 would but the brakes on the program at least for a little while.

I was away with my dad and brother at a winter camp the night we heard on the radio that Apollo 1 had experienced a fire that killed three astronauts during a systems test. I was nine years old and like many Americans, I felt that our race to the moon might be stalled for the rest of the decade.

But the Apollo program returned, and soon our focus was back on the moon and doing that in a safer manner. I remember the Life magazine cover of Apollo 8 going around the moon and sending back a picture of the big blue and white marble that was Earth at Christmas time in 1968.

I started a scrapbook as the nation, and the world, anxiously awaited the launch of Apollo 11. Two more missions would push the envelope even further as the world waited for the big one.

The astronaut team of Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Ed Collins were our heroes as that “small step for man… giant leap for mankind” took place in July 1969. Their mission was a success. They brought back the incredible story of an unimaginable adventure.

And they brought back moon rocks.

Over the next few years, five more missions (Apollo 13 did not land on the moon) to the lunar surface would create more fascinating stories, and more rocks. There's a scene in the movie Apollo 13 where the stranded astronauts momentarily question why their spacecraft calculations seem to be off by a few hundred pounds.

Two astronauts look at each other with one saying, "Rocks." The calculations were based on a returning spacecraft that would have included lunar samples.

I guess that's why the moon rock on display at the Challenger Learning Center really hit home for me. Here was a piece of the moon, encased in lucite, but a specimen from our great adventure into space.

I could hold it, and smile with it as the picture was taken. It completes the scrapbook I started as a kid.

Over the years, I met several astronauts in my travels as a space reporter in Huntsville, Alabama in the early 1980’s. In the 1990’s, I met Jim Lovell and Fred Haise, the two surviving members of the famous Apollo 13 mission that had to return from space after an explosion nearly lost the spacecraft.

The pair was reunited at a conference I attended in upstate New York. Meeting these modern day explorers was nothing short of a dream come true for this boy who loved the space program.

But seeing the moon rock, something that actually came back from America's journey into the unknown, was a very special moment in my life.

Ever since Apollo ended, there has been debate over why the United States ended manned lunar exploration. When the space shuttle program ends later this year, the discussion will continue over why our nation is backing away from manned space flight.

For this one special night in Atwater, California, there was no debate. There was no discussion over our space budget priorities. For this one night, this little boy who grew up never losing faith in American ingenuity, the moon rock brought it all home.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced

Steve Jobs, Broker of Change

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget the black turtleneck sweater, blue jeans, wire-rimmed glasses, and stubble beard.

I’m probably least qualified to weigh in on the life of Apple co-founder Steve Jobs who passed away in early October.  I don’t own an iPhone or an iPad.  I still buy compact disks for my music.  And this column is being written on a PC.

But I do agree with many who are beginning to assess Jobs’ legacy by putting him in the same league as Henry Ford and Thomas Edison. 

I could add to that list of Americans who have contributed to the fabric of our commercial existence the likes of Kodak founder George Eastman, and the inventor of the television Philo T. Farnsworth.

For the sake of argument, I concede that none of these inventors brought their ideas forth as pure individual achievements.  All worked with people, took ideas established by others, and with the possible exception of Farnsworth, moved their thoughts forward with the help of many individuals.  None acted alone.

Edison gave us the light bulb and the phonograph.  Ford gave us the assembly line production of the automobile.  Eastman put photography into the hands of ordinary people. 

Farnsworth gave us the television, but fought bitterly with corporate moguls who tried to marginalize his contributions.

That takes me back to Jobs.  He didn’t invent the computer, but he and others at Apple Computer did help develop the idea that a computer could be in every home. 

The company revolutionized the music distribution business with the notion that the consumer could buy just the one song they wanted from an album of ten to twenty cuts. 

Apple dropped the word computer from its’ name and gave us the iPhone which in turn spun several established inventions in a new direction. 

Even the personal computer, the original idea that launched Jobs and Apple over thirty years ago, was transformed into the light-weight, but heavily technologically driven iPad.

I remember NBC’s David Brinkley speaking about the legacy of Elvis Presley at the time of the King of rock and roll’s death in the 1970’s.  “Whether you liked him or not, he changed things.  He changed the way, then (1950’s) teenage Americans thought about music, clothes, and life.”

This thought can be applied to some extent on the legacy of Steve Jobs.  He did a lot thinking for us as he brokered ideas and added a few of his own to give the world products they never really knew they wanted or needed. 

He may not have been the most compassionate boss.  Some have questioned his commitment to corporate responsibility and community service.  Several quotes attributed to him are now being discovered as not having been original, but rather quotes he may have borrowed from others without attribution. 

But no one will question that he was a brilliant man with a commitment to helping his customers discover they needed something they previously never realized they needed.

He changed things.    From the scrapping of traditional business attire at product announcements, to the way all of us think about technology, Steve Jobs changed a lot of things.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced. 

My Borders’ Liquation Reading List

Last Days of Borders

“Congratulations sir, you are among the final customers at Borders.”

That comment was made to me in mid-September as the book store chain closed its’ Turlock location as well as all its’ remaining stores.  The chain was a victim of the soured economy as well as a shift in customer tastes away from books made with paper.  Digital readers are the new big things in publishing. 

And while Borders had a digital reader, it apparently wasn’t enough to stem the tide of red ink.  The company filed for bankruptcy well over a year ago, and made the decision to end its’ business this summer.

 40 percent off

I shopped at the Turlock store shortly after the bankruptcy liquidation sale was announced.  Everything was 40 percent off.  I didn’t buy anything then.  Week after week, the discounts kept getting bigger and bigger. 

The last week the store was open, I received an email-shopping reminder from Borders.com. saying everything would be discounted 90 percent.

 So I went back to the store and bought a bunch of books.  Many of them I would never have purchased at anywhere near the normal 20 to 30 percent discount rate. 

Some I might have considered checking out at the library or borrowing from a friend.  Some I had never heard of.  But I figured, what the heck, the books are on sale.

 Here’s a brief synopsis of from I call Steve’s Borders’ Liquidation Reading List:

Harry Truman’s Excellent Adventure by Matthew Algeo was the first book of the batch that I read.  It’s about a road trip the former President and his wife Bess took from Independence, Missouri to New York City and back in 1953. 

They had no Secret Service and no media advance team; but they had plenty of press attention and from all accounts, a pretty good time.

Where Have All the Leaders Gone, by Lee Iacocca.  This audio book attempted to reinvigorate the flame the former head of Chrysler created with two books he wrote in the 1980’s.  While he has some good leadership ideas, it was clear he and his ghostwriter had an ax to grind with the Bush 43 administration.  Without the politics, it’s not bad.

Failure is Not an Option by Gene Krantz.  The former Mission Control head at NASA, made famous by the Apollo 13 movie performance by actor Ed Harris, shares his perspective on crisis management and problem solving.  I haven’t started it yet, but I hope it is a satisfying book.

How Starbucks Saved My Life by Michael Gates Gill.  This is about a guy who had a great job, lost the job, and ended up working at the coffee shop.  I remember hearing about it when it came out a few years ago.  I’m sure I’ll like it.

Remembering Denny by Calvin Trillin.  I remember Calvin as a guest on the Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson back in the 1980’s.  This book is about Calvin and his friend Denny.  It’s a personal account of how things worked out for Calvin but not so much so for Denny.  I look forward to reading it.

Rough Justice by Peter Elkind.  This is about the scandal that brought down former New York Governor Elliott Spitzer and how he rebuilt himself following the mess.  That’s the only real political book in the bunch. 

As I lived in New York with Spitzer was Attorney General (and saw him a handful of times on his rise up the ladder), this should be an interesting read. 

These books, along with a few others, cost me a little over fifteen dollars.  I probably wouldn’t have bought any of them had I paid anywhere near the full price.  But bargains sometimes make for a good motivator.  Borders’ misfortune has brought many readers some good fortune.

That’s all I have to say for now.  I’m nearing the end of Scout, Atticus, and Bo by Mary McDonagh Murphy, an essay compilation centered on the classic Harper Lee novel To Kill a Mocking Bird.  

I have to get back to the book.

I have a lot more reading to do.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced

9-11 at Ten Years

We’re all looking for words to describe our feelings as the September 11th tragedy is marked at tenth anniversary ceremonies in New York, Washington, Pennsylvania, and many communities such as Merced.

I was still looking for words as I prepared this column.  What I found were memories of that day that are just as fresh in my mind as they were ten years ago, writings from a source dating back exactly ten years, and an old American Flag.

On that day in 2001, I was at my upstate New York office when a friend of a co-worker called to tell us what had happened.  We immediately turned on our radios and began searching for details on the internet. 

We did not have television service at our office, so our only real connection to the outside world was through radio and the web.  The first image I saw of the plane hitting the second tower was a still image on the CNN website.

Our staff sat around in shock as we saw more pictures, heard more details, and began talking with friends and business associates coming to our office. 

I was the lead staff person for a committee that was meeting during the lunch hour.  None of us at that meeting felt like working or eating.  Somehow, we got through the meeting and somehow we got through that workday.

I was also teaching a college course part time and September 11 was a class day.  My class would meet in the late afternoon after my regular workday was finished. 

I called my department chair Joe Bulsys at the college to ask whether the class would meet. If it did meet, I needed some guidance as to how to handle the students who were most likely seeing a day that would be etched in their memory for a lifetime.

Joe told me that the college President had not formally cancelled classes and that I should go to the classroom with no plan to teach that day’s lesson.  He suggested I tell the students they could leave if they wished, and invite them to remain there and watch the television news coverage along with me in the classroom. 

About half of the class showed up, and about half of those chose to leave at the beginning of the class period.  I stayed with the others for the next hour as we watched the network coverage on television.

When I got home at the end of the day, my two teenage daughters were watching the coverage from our living room.  My wife Vaune and I sat with them quietly as the broadcasts continued.

I began keeping a journal in the months following my Mother’s death in 2000.  I intended to use the journal to write my memories of her and to help me deal with the loss.  I located that first journal over the weekend and found that I had an entry dated September 12, 2001.

From my September 12, 2001 entry:

A day after the tragedy in NYC and Washington.  Everyone is shocked by the events.  Vaune and I went to church last night where a very beautiful prayer service was held.  They burned incense in a pottery bowl throughout the service.  To me, it represented the ongoing stream of sadness and pain so many of us were feeling….

Why was there so much pain inflicted on so many people? .. This is a time of “why us, why now?”  

I know I don’t have an answer and probably will never get an answer.  I ask God to help me through this, ..and to touch each family dealing with the loss of loved ones in the bombings.

We have an American Flag handed down to us by my wife’s grandmother. She came to this country as a young woman from Italy.  Her husband worked the coalmines of Pennsylvania and would eventually die before his time from lung disease.

The flag is worn and has some mildew marks from being stored while wet during the years she would fly it in front of her Pennsylvania home.  It has forty-eight stars. 

The reds and blues are not as brilliant as the synthetic flags that are manufactured today. 

The white has long lost its’ sharpness. 

But my wife and I wouldn’t think of putting any other flag in front of our house on those special days when we display it so proudly.

We fly our family heirloom American flag on special occasions every year such as Memorial Day, Flag Day, and Independence Day. 

In recent years, we’ve added September 11 as a day when that cherished family heirloom is displayed on our front porch.

We will never forget.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced

Castle Air Museum

It's hard to believe that Castle Air Museum in Atwater is celebrating thirty years in the community.  I've been in the Central Valley for seven years and it seems the time has, pardon the pun, been flying by.

I got to know Museum Executive Director Joe Pruzo and some members of the team at Castle a few years ago.  We were part of a group trying to organize a car show at the museum with the Greater Merced Chamber of Commerce. 

I left the Chamber in 2007 but continued to keep in contact with the organization.

Last summer, I reached out to Castle for a book I was writing on unique things along highway 99.  Castle Air Museum, while not on highway 99, was close enough to the roadway and significant to my telling readers about things they shouldn't miss when traveling up and down the valley.

Joe told me how museums such as this one have been a primary source for keeping the history of America's military aviation alive.

"Back in the years following World War, II, the military was begging cities to take a wartime aircraft and put it on display," Joe told me.  "Some did, and many now wished they had."

Aircraft not claimed by communities in those early post war years were headed for the scrap metal heap.  Many planes made it on that journey of no return.  But thanks to the dedication of volunteers and the cooperation of military installations such as Castle Air Force Base, many planes were saved.

For the first fifteen years of its’ existence, Castle Air Museum could count on a watchful benefactor helping the museum preserve these historic relics.  That benefactor was the Castle Air Force Base.  "The Air Base was extremely helpful in taking care of the Museum's immediate needs," Joe told me in the interview I did for my book.

When the Air Base closed as part of the Base Realignment and Closing Act (BRAC) in the 1990's, it was time to see whether appreciation for the aircraft was indeed part of the fabric of the community.

It was.  Some years were a struggle, but the Museum continued to pay some bills, acquire more aircraft, and perhaps more importantly, create greater awareness among volunteers, supporters, and the community at large.

We may take such events as Open Cockpit days, Halloween Fright Night, Christmas Plane Lane, and the recent thirtieth anniversary open house (held March 20) for granted.

These events raise money to keep the program going.   Each is important to build on the brand that is Castle Air Museum.

IMG_3117

How many times are you asked what is there to do in Merced County?  And how many times does Castle Air Museum become part of your answer to that question?

And now, the sixty-four dollar question: have you taken the time recently to visit the museum?

The next time you get a chance, go to the museum indoor history area and look up the display for Operation Power Flite (yes, the Air Force spelled flite that way when they named this historic mission).

You'll read about an incredible milestone reached in military aviation more than fifty years ago.  And it all started right here in Merced County at the Castle Air Force Base.

You'll be proud of the folks who have worked so hard to preserve military aviation history so that it can be shared with the rest of the world.

You'll learn about an event so historic, it made the cover of Life magazine.  And you'll be proud to live in Merced County, California.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced.

Yosemite National Park. Very busy...parking is a challenge...safety is an issue...but it sure is beautiful!

There was a letter to the editor in the Merced Sun Star recently from a visitor to Yosemite National Park. This letter pointed out a negative experience the writer had during a visit in early August. The writer called out those who littered the park with their trash, showed blatant disregard for safety near dangerous waterfall sites, and engaged in a general lack of civility among the crowds.

I was in the Park the same day. I saw most of what the letter writer saw. I can add to the list the seeming lack of any real enforcement of Park rules by the Rangers.

Other than the Ranger who told us to pay on the way out (following a one hour delay getting through the Route 140 entrance), and the Ranger who took our money as we left the Park later in the day, I saw no one from the staff during our visit.

With fourteen deaths in the Park so far this year, I’m sure those on duty were working hard to keep the rest of us safe. I just didn’t see them. And we could have used them.

No one was at the visitor landing beneath Bridal Veil to enforce the Danger signs. No one was near the bridge overlooking the falls at Yosemite Valley. No one was patrolling the areas where walkers and bicyclists were using the same trails.

Parking was another problem. I raise the question as to whether there is a Park management index that ties cars coming through the gates to available parking spots throughout the Park. It sure didn’t look like it.

I think the problem boils down to one issue: too many people are in the Park’s popular venues at the same time. There’s got to be a plan to address the increasing attendance.

I’d hate to see restrictions on the numbers coming through the gates, but it’s becoming more and more clear that this vast wilderness Park needs some modern day upgrades.

Some ideas

Begin with adequate parking at the popular venues by encouraging use of available mass transit with maybe an incentive to use it. Develop a communication system that could email an enrolled prospective visitor with a crowd conditions report based on attendance counts at the gate.

Don’t go on Oprah to encourage more people to come in when you’re challenged to handle the crowds that currently come.

With my comments about logistics now one the record,  let’s not lose sight of the central issue. Yosemite is an international crown jewel. It should be seen by everyone. It needs to be protected.

As I wrote in 9 From 99, Experiences in California’s Central Valley, “I cannot do justice to documenting the stories that comprise the history and visitor experiences of Yosemite.

There are many resources.

The PBS Ken Burns documentary The National Parks, America's Best idea...the photography of Ansel Adams..(or) just type in Yosemite on Google...You could spend the rest of your life reading about this unique part of Califonia."

"But I recommend you take your eyes off the computer and find a way to see it for yourself."

steve bridal veil

Steve Newvine lives in Merced.

The Edison: Grandma got to see how I intended to keep the tradition of the antique phonograph alive for future generations.

My Grandma Newvine had an Edison phonograph in her home.  As an elementary school aged grandson, I would always look forward to her cranking up the machine and playing the half-inch thick records.  As I moved into my middle and high school years, she’d let me go into the back room of her house and play the records by myself.

 I loved spending an afternoon cranking up the Edison with the arm on the side of the cabinet.  I’d pull out a record from the cabinet, set it on the turntable, and start up the music. The scratches and skips on the records were part of the character of the experience. 

I truly enjoyed the collection of waltzes, fox trots, sopranos, tenors, and lullabies.

 The music was nice, but I enjoyed the comedy routines.  Among the vaudeville era bits was a little ditty my grandmother called The Recipe. 

The comedian, unknown as the record label has been long lost, begins with a recipe for a casserole.  After commenting on the various ingredients and directions, the performer ends the recipe with the instructions, “throw it out and open a can of salmon”.  He then sings about a woman named Ann:

Talk about Ann, 

In her little sedan.

Who did we up in the tree-zies,

Hanging by their X-Y Zee-zies.

Ann,

In her little sedan.

 I was the only grandchild who had any real interest in Grandma’s record player.  When she was in her ninety’s, she gave the phonograph to me.  She passed away a few years later. 

Before she died, I produced a ten-minute holiday video with my two daughters singing Christmas carols accompanied by a xylophone recording on the Edison.  Grandma got to see how I intended to keep the tradition of the antique phonograph alive for future generations.

 The antique phonograph was a great conversation starter for visitors to our home.  It made several moves as we traded up to different homes over the years.

 One of those moves resulted in something apparently getting loose within the phonograph cabinet.  The Edison would no longer play. 

We promised ourselves to get it fixed one of these days, but that day never came.  It sat in the corner of our living room:  still a conversation starter, but no longer a source of entertainment.

 Then one summer night, we had several people over to our house for a potluck.  Naturally the Edison again started a conversation. 

As I explained how the phonograph stopped working in recent years, my wife demonstrated how the crank arm worked.  She turned on the turntable, and the record started spinning. 

 We played several records for our guests that evening.  One of them commented to us in a thank you note: “So nice when what was old becomes new again”.

 I don’t know why the Edison started working again.  But I do believe in small gifts of fate.  And this was one of those gifts.

 Steve Newvine lives in Merced.

Reflections on a Wedding Anniversary

 My wife Vaune and I will celebrate our anniversary this week.  Anniversaries often get me thinking about how marriages succeed over the years.  My parents were within striking distance of their fiftieth when my Mom passed away.  My wife’s parents are now at fifty-six years.  If there’s a secret to marriage success, don’t ask me.  I don’t really know.

Once we reached the twenty-year mark, I began making it a point to seek out the so-called secrets of a successful marriage from others.  At first, I’d listen to famous people explain how their marriages lasted so long. 

Comedian, actor, and director Carl Reiner probably said it best when he answered Johnny Carson’s question about the secret to a successful marriage.  His response, “The key is, marry someone who can stand you.”

One morning, while getting ready for work during a business trip, I heard a recently married local television news anchor woman give her advice to a man who had announced his engagement, “All I can say is that when she cooks you dinner, if you think it’s good, tell her it’s great.”

Radio talk show host Sean Hannity told a listener once that if your focus is on making the other person happy, always, then you should never have to worry about whether you’ll have a successful marriage.

I don’t know where I heard this next piece of advice, but it makes a lot of sense to me: never go to bed angry…you won’t get any sleep anyway.

Recently at our church, the priest offered a special prayer to a couple celebrating their seventieth anniversary.  After the service, I went up to the couple to congratulate them.  I asked the husband what was the secret to a long marriage.  Without missing a beat, this ninety-year old plus man looked at me and said, “Learn how to say yes dear.”

I look around me and see the many blessings of long marriages among my family.  My grandparents on my dad’s side made it to their 72nd anniversary.  Grandma Newvine passed away a couple of months following that anniversary.  I’m not sure what either one of them would say was their secret to a long lasting union. 

But I remember as a child that my Grandpa used to help give his kids a bath every night.  I thought that was unusual given that Grandpa owned a dairy farm that required him to be doing hard farm work twelve hours a day, every day.

As a kid, I wondered why he’d help with what I previously considered to be “woman’s work”.  Thank goodness I wised up in time to help my wife with the household chores when our two daughters were being raised.

Maybe that’s the secret to a successful marriage.  Not necessarily the spoken word or the written pieces of advice.  Success is almost always the unspoken.  The knowing that the other person needs you to step up, roll up your sleeves, and tend to the business at hand.

A priest I knew once said he told couples preparing marriage that the key to success is not each person giving fifty-fifty to make a whole.  The real secret, he said, was each person giving one-hundred-percent.

I’ll go with that.  While I’m sure I haven’t always been able to give everything, one-hundred-percent seems like a good place to start.

Author’s note- a version of this essay will appear in Steve’s new book Microphones, Moon Rocks, and Memories  to be published later this year.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced

Book Reading Binge

My college English teacher Mrs. Samuels told us over thirty years ago about a habit she started several years prior to that time. The habit was saving books over several months for the express purpose of having something good to read while on summer vacation.

During our child raising years, I was lucky if I got through one or two books during a summer vacation. So I put that habit on hold, until the past two years. Since that time, I start stashing anywhere from four to ten books that I'd like to read while on a summer vacation.

Last year, we vacationed at a cottage in Bass Lake up in the Sierras. My stash of books included a holiday novel, an autobiography by Dr. Phil's wife, and a Robert B. Parker cowboy adventure.

None of the books I took with me on vacation ranked high on a "recommended" list, but they did entertain for the summer hours spent sitting outside in the cool air of the Sierras.

This year, I started my vacation book stash shortly after the beginning of the year. I took a book about outstanding women written by ABC News reporter Cokie Roberts, a book on fatherhood from Fox News morning anchor Steve Doocey, a mystery novel, and a personal story about a man's effort to overcome the effects of a stoke.

It was an eclectic mix of books. It did make the vacation pass by fast.

Nook-S.Newvine

Reading is a wonderful past time for me. I was read to by my Mom at a very early age. Teachers in those critical early elementary years helped nurture my love of books by reading to our classes all the time.

The teen and college years found my reading concentrated primarily on assignments for classes. Then came the family years when any spare time was quickly taken by demands of raising children, maintaining a house, and nurturing my professional career.

One of the many benefits I've enjoyed in these years since my children have left the roost is the time to settle down with a good book. I started keeping track of the books I've read in the past few years.

Over twenty books in 2009, sixty in 2010, and forty so far as we cross the halfway point of 2011.

I may not have liked each book, but I have certainly enjoyed the gift of having time to read.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced

How a Small Upstate New York Village Used Corn to Put Itself on the Map

The Rotary Club I belonged to in Avon, New York is celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary of a summer festival that has put the community on the map.

The Avon Corn Festival provides entertainment, arts, and (you guessed it) corn to tens of thousands of visitors over the past two and a half decades.

The Avon Rotary Club sponsors the event, but it really belongs to the entire community.

The idea for a Corn Festival began when interested citizens met to brainstorm ideas for some kind of event to celebrate the community’s agricultural heritage.  Some civic clubs and interested community members grabbed onto the idea of a festival named after a popular local crop and made their idea happen in 1987.

In the early years, the festival experienced some growing pains.  But one organization, Avon Rotary Club, hung in there and continues to present the event every year on the first Saturday in August.

As a member of the club, my memories include the several weeks of preparation, an intense week leading up to the festival, and an extremely long day when the festival actually arrived.

Year after year, the festival defined summertime in that small upstate New York community.   One year it rained practically all day.  We had company visiting and thought their first exposure to the festival would have to wait until another year.

Later in the day, the rain stopped and we took a walk to the festival grounds where I saw one of the largest crowds ever.  It seemed the entire community wouldn’t let the rain spoil their event.

I joined the Avon Rotary Club in 1995 and was elected President five years later.  One of my duties as President was to welcome the community to a free rock and roll concert to cap the full day of activities.

I felt like a cross between Dick Clark and Ryan Secrest as I introduced the band called the Skycoasters!

There would have a lot of hard work the day and night of the festival, but our job was far from over.  The next morning, every Rotarian was expected to be back at the festival site to take down any remaining booths and tents, as well as to sweep the streets and get the area looking better than we found it just two days prior.

I have spoken and written about this community’s celebration of agriculture to groups in New York, Delaware, and here in California.  I speak to groups in our state about how a small village in upstate New York could create a powerful tourism venue.

I’ve written about Avon Rotary’s fund raising event in a book on personal development skills Soft Skills in Hard Times.  My message is simple: find something that makes your town unique, mobilize your community’s energy through volunteers, and promote the heck out of it.

It was a privilege serving in Avon Rotary for ten of the twenty years I lived in that community.  My proudest moment during that time was sponsoring a member who would eventually become the first woman President of the Club.

Being part of the Corn Festival was truly the most rewarding aspect of my time with Rotary.

Everyone in the Club knew that a successful festival would help the Club give back to so many community organizations and charitable causes.

In twenty-five years, that single focus has never changed!

Steve Newvine lives in Merced and served as President of the Avon, New York Rotary Club in 2000-2001

Learning From Teaching

I have the first graders at Elmer Wood Elementary School in Atwater to thank for giving me a reason to have hope for our future generations. I presented a Junior Achievement program to Ms Harris’ class on May 5. Junior Achievement is a national non-profit program designed to provide children of all ages with a better understanding of business and how a strong business sector can help foster stronger and safer communities. The program uses volunteers from the local community.

The volunteers come into the classroom armed with a learning "kit" of lesson plans and classroom materials such as posters, handouts, and take home items. The take home items included refrigerator magnets and postcards. After an orientation session, the volunteers are ready to teach the program in classes signed up to the program.

I was a J-A presenter in a second grade class about ten years ago when I lived in upstate New York. I still cherish a group photo presented to me by the class when I finished that five-unit program.

Fast forward ten years to 2011 and I find that not much has changed in how the program is set up and executed. I picked up my learning kit the night before my class.

I had to skip any orientation due to the short time frame between signing up and presenting. Fortunately, my previous experience from the 1990's prepared me for what to expect of the program.

I arrived at Elmer Wood School at 7:30 am, signed in at the principal's office, and was directed to the classroom. There, I met twenty smiling faces and Ms Harris. She helped me set up the room with a giant poster of a small community. After giving me an introduction, she sat close by as I began my presentation.

The J-A courses are generally broken down into five sections. Ten years ago, I presented these sections over a five-week period. This time around, I would present all five sections in one three-hour period. Talk about pressure!

The first section dealt with that poster we put up on the wall in front of the class. The students were encouraged to point out things they were familiar with such as a school bus, children, trees, and pets.

From this participation exercise, we were able to define a family as a special group of people who may differ in age and relationships but who are connected to one another in some way. We even concluded that different types of family members live in our community and that they all can help one another make it a good place to live.

Part two was about making the distinction between what you need and what you want. Again, there was a lot of class participation as I held up pictures of things we need, such as: healthy food, clothing, and a home; as well as pictures of things we want, such as: an ice cream cone, a video game, and a pet.

Some of the students challenged the idea that a pet is a "want" rather than a "need". As a pet owner (our cat Bob has been with us for twelve years), I tend to agree with the kids.

The third unit helped the children define what a job is and why a job is important in helping families acquire their wants and needs.

Junior Achievement kits contain workbooks and handouts so that the students can participate in developing their own vision of jobs and career paths. These young people were only six and seven years old, but already they are getting ideas about what they would like to do when they grow up.

Session four was the most active section when I placed a large map of the neighborhood on the floor. The students circled around the map and took turns pointing out such things as a police station, a school building, a hospital, and a fire station.

We connected the locations on the maps to the concept of "does this place provide us with a want or a need?" The children enjoyed this session the most. I suspect they enjoyed this the most because they could finally get away from their desks and form a circle around the floor map.

We wrapped it up in the final section with a review of everything covered in the previous four sections and making the point that jobs help families live better lives. I stressed how their hard work in school would eventually earn them a diploma.

I then handed out certificates of completion to the group. The certificates were prepared by J-A coordinator Michelle Gonzales in anticipation of a successful completion of the five sessions.

The group was very appreciative of my visit and wished me a safe day as I prepared to leave. I packed up what remained of my Junior Achievement kit, and left the school at the end of the morning.

I really have to hand it to the teachers who are with our children most of the day. They have to be nurturing, firm, and in control throughout the day. Without these key components, the J-A program could not achieve the level of success is has achieved over the years.

But I really have to give a shout out to the students. Their attention to the material being presented, their naturally inquisitive nature, and their enthusiasm really made an impact on me. As a volunteer presenter, I got so much out of this group of eager young people.

I'm thankful to work for a company that encourages volunteer opportunities such as Junior Achievement and permits me time away from the regular workday to participate in these activities. I was impressed with the level of support received by the program coordinator in preparing for my day-in-the-classroom.

And I was overwhelmed by the dedication to learning I observed in the teacher Ms Harris.

Most of all, I felt honored to be in the presence of our future generation of learners. They are beginning to form ideas about how they can contribute to their communities.

They are getting ideas every day about how they might contribute to improving the quality of life when they leave school.

If this first grade class at Elmer Wood Elementary in Atwater is any indication, I think we are in good hands.

They have given me renewed hope in the future.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced and is a member of the Business Education Alliance of Merced, (BEAM) an organization of business people and educators working together to help produce a world class workforce in Merced County. BEAM is affiliated with the Merced County Office of Education.

You never forget your first job. And I have a picture to remind me of just how special that time was.

The webmaster of this site, Brad Haven, is always challenging me to provide a picture with my columns.  He has explained to me how a picture can help illuminate a point.  He has even sent me an article about how a picture is worth more than a thousand words. 

He’s right.  Pictures definitely help when you’re trying to tell a story.

I believe I have found another reason to look for a photograph to accompany each of my columns.   So taking Brad’s advice from early in this assignment, I went back to my photographs.

After the most recent post on my eight years as an altar boy, I struggled with what the next subject should be.  I really don’t have anything to say about the US getting Bin Laden; I’m satisfied that justice was delivered. 

I could weigh in on Mother’s Day, but by the time this is posted, the holiday will have passed.  Maybe next year.  That left me searching for the next idea.

When you encounter writer’s block, go to the pictures.  And that’s what leads me to this photograph I found in my career scrapbook the other day.

The photo shows a very young Steve Newvine (on the right) trying to write a television news story from the newsroom at WICZ-TV in Binghamton, New York.  The year was 1979.  The man on the left was my first television news boss Mark Williams.   Mark had been elevated to News Director only a couple of months prior to the time this photograph was taken.   I was his first hire.

Fresh out of college (Syracuse University) I interviewed for the job during my finals.  I remember not being so sure I impressed him in the interview, but I had an audition tape (a video tape of stories I produced while at a college internship at another TV station). 

Mark saw enough potential there is put me on his short list.  He promised to get back to me by the end of the week.

He called me again on a Thursday night and said he had to run a few things past his general manager.  He said he would call me Friday.  I hung up the phone, announced to my parents that I wouldn’t be going to sleep that night as I worried about whether I would actually be offered the job.

I did fall asleep later that night (probably early in the morning of that Friday).  I stayed close to the phone all day Friday.  At six-thirty PM, someone in my family suggested I go outside for a walk.  I resigned myself to thinking that maybe Mark got caught up in his work of the week.  I put on my sneakers and headed out the door.

Then the phone rang.  It was Mark.  He offered me the job.  I accepted.  He asked when I could start, and I said “Monday!”  We wished each other a good weekend.  I hung up the phone, hugged my family, and started packing for Binghamton.

I said my goodbyes to my grandparents, withdrew my life savings up to that point (about $500), and left for my first paying job in television news that weekend.

As the picture shows, I reported and wrote news for the station.  Mark and I, along with four or five other staff people, made up the news department.  We had no state or national wire service.

Mark had a lot of contacts throughout the viewing area that he routinely called to get tips on potential local news stories.  I learned from him and the others how to produce a news story, how to assemble an entire newscast, how to shoot video when my photographer couldn’t accompany me on a story, and how to connect with the local community.

During my year and a half at WICZ-TV, I did every on-air job the station had including news, weather, sports, talk show host, and outdoors sports reporter.

Station finances in 1980 forced a layoff that spared my job, but sent a chilling message to everyone that we better cover our bets and prepare for even tougher times.

I started looking for a new job shortly after returning from my honeymoon in July.  In October, I left the station for WAAY-TV in Hunstville, Alabama.  I stayed in television news for another fourteen years.

I’m glad I found that old picture from thirty-two years ago in my scrapbook.  I exchange an occasional email from the man who hired me.

Some of the radio and television broadcasters in the Binghamton market have formed a reunion club. They host a dinner and awards event every year.  One of these days, I’m going to attend.

You never forget your first job.  I had lots of jobs throughout high school and college that helped pay college costs and other expenses, but the first job the field that I trained in will always remain a special memory.

And I have a picture to remind me of just how special that time was.

Steve Newvine was a broadcast journalist from 1979 through 1994.  He lives and works in Merced.

My Eight Years as an Altar Boy

Altar boy

In the wake of the recent celebration of Holy Week and Easter, I got to thinking about some of the times I experienced as a boy and young adult in upstate New York.  In particular, I recall the years I was an Altar Boy at St. Martin’s Church in Port Leyden.

I started when I was in the fourth grade back in 1967 when all boys in my religious education class were invited to become Altar Servers.   By the way, girls were invited to take part in a service club known as Sodality.  It would be many years before girls were permitted to serve on the altar.

Sister Agnes Claire was our trainer and she was a tough taskmaster.  We had practice once a week after school at the church.   Our practice began with a prayer, then repetition of the elements of the Catholic Mass and our role in helping the priest on the altar.

We learned when to genuflect, how to genuflect, how to hold the book of priest prayers, when to get the water and wine, how to hold the gold-plated paten under the chin of persons receiving Holy Communion, and when to ring the bells during the Eucharistic Prayers.

Week after week, we’d go to practice.  Week after week, we’d review each segment of the celebration while learning what to do and what not to do.  But week after week, Sister told us we were still not ready to take our place at the altar.

Eventually, we would each be issued a black cassock and a while surplice.  This was the official “uniform” of a server.  We were told to take the cassock and surplice home and “have our Mom wash and iron them”.  It was another step toward getting an assignment.

Finally, in February 1968, I got the call.  One afternoon after school, Sister Agnes Claire phoned my home to tell me that I would have my first assignment on the altar. I was told I would be “serving on the side”, which meant that I wouldn’t have to actually do any of the things I had been taught during the past five months.

My only job was to show up with my cassock and surplice, process out of the priest’s sanctuary with the other “real” servers at the beginning of Mass, and sit on the side of the altar throughout the service.

I was nervous and recall being pushed out onto the altar from one of the senior servers when my feet seemed to be stuck to the floor at the start of the Mass.  But I got through it.  I think my Dad was in the congregation that first night.  My Mom had not yet converted to Catholicism.

Within weeks, I would get my shot at actually serving as a “real” server.   By the next year, I fancied myself one of the senior types who helped the newbies overcome their nervousness.

Over the years, I was tempted to give up my altar serving.  Several of the boys who started with me that first year had already dropped out of the ministry.  Some were not even coming to church anymore.

The temptation to end my stint as an altar boy was strong.  After all I reasoned, I was a teenager and the cassock and surplice were not really cool.  But with some encouragement from my Dad to stick with it, I persevered.  By the time I was a senior in high school, serving on the altar was a badge of honor I wore proudly.

The last Mass I served at St. Martin’s was the day after my high school graduation.  I still wonder if Sister Agnes Claire purposely scheduled me for that day so that I wouldn’t be tempted to overdo it on the partying after the graduation ceremony.  I’ll never know.

Father Lyddy

Our priest during those late teen years was Father Lyddy: a kind man and a good teacher.  As we continued to grow into our roles, Father Lyddy allowed my friend Phil and me to read scripture as a Lector during Masses when we were serving Mass.  That’s where I got my first opportunity to Lector.   Little by little, he was introducing us to other ministries in the Church.

Serving on the altar also cemented my friendship Phil.  The two of us had known each other since kindergarten, but our time as Altar Boys at St. Martin’s created a unique bond that remains to this day.

I’ll always remember Holy Week when I was in my late teens.  For an Altar Boy, this was the World Series of serving with three special celebrations followed by the Easter Sunday Mass.   There were special rehearsals for these services.  By then, Phil and I were always assigned the Mass on Holy Thursday, the service on Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil Mass on Holy Saturday.

Many times after Holy Thursday and Holy Saturday services, Phil and I would just stand outside the church and talk for what seemed to be a good hour or more.  While we both remained friends, both of us had expanded our base of friends to include others.  But our service together as Altar Servers created a special bond.

Upon graduation from high school, Phil entered the United States Air Force Academy and had a successful career in the military.  I went on to Herkimer County Community College and Syracuse University before embarking on my first career as a television journalist.

Throughout our professional lives, we both continued to serve our respective parishes in ministry roles:  Phil was a Eucharistic Minister and I became a Lector.

I’m grateful for those eight years as an Altar Boy.  I’m certain it kept me engaged in a church going culture that existed in my family during my years growing up.

My service built a foundation for my volunteer work in church ministry that continues to this day. 

But most of all, I associate my time as an Altar Boy as a positive experience that I wouldn’t have traded for anything.  It was indeed a blessing.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced and is a parishioner at St. Patrick’s Church in Merced. 

The E-Reader and the B-M-T-R List

I won a prize at the Greater Merced Chamber mixer the other night.

I try to attend a few of the Chamber’s monthly networking events during the year.  As many of you may know, I am the former Chief Executive Officer of the Chamber.  Going to the Greater Chamber's mixers help me reconnect with Chamber members, local government office holders and staff, as well as new folks interested in promoting their businesses through the Chamber.

The event sponsor was Comfort Keepers, a home health care company.   It’s customary at these events that a raffle be held.  I bought some tickets when I learned that the proceeds from that night’s raffle would benefit the local Food Bank and Catholic Charities.

Both are among the many human service agencies that help our community. Comfort Keepers chose these two organizations and solicited local businesses and their suppliers to provide prizes for the drawing.

Besides knowing that 100-percent of ticket sales would benefit these two charities, the raffle boasted some pretty nifty prizes.  And as luck would have it, I won an e-reader.

Now I can read books without paper.

I spent the weekend getting my e-reader ready to go.  It was surprisingly easy for a technically challenged person like me.  Within an hour, I had downloaded the Complete Works of Mark Twain.

Within a few days, I had finished reading A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.  I chose that novel as my first e-read because it was available and because I often feel I don't read enough of the classics.

Having enjoyed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in grade school and Huckleberry Finn in high school, I thought it would be fun to go back to basics.  Mark Twain is getting considerable renewed interest in recent months following the publication of his autobiography some one-hundred years after his death.

Reading with an e-reader has been a real adventure.  I tap the screen when I reach the bottom of the page.  If I tap too lightly, the page won't turn.  If I tap too hard, it turns more than one page.

Lighting was always an issue when I read a book on paper.  I need to be in a well-lit room or outdoors.  With the e-reader, the book itself is lit like a computer screen so a room light is no longer necessary.

Outdoors, the model I have does pretty well in sunlight, although it hasn't really been tested until it comes up against a San Joaquin Valley summer sunshine day.  I'll let you know how that works in July.

Most importantly, the e-reader has allowed me to read classic literature on my terms.  Many classic books are available for free through the e-reader manufacturer.

Others, such as a Bible or the Mark Twain collection I purchased, are just 99-cents.  Best sellers, such as former President Bush's autobiography Decision Points, cost about ten to fifteen dollars for an e-reader edition.

I'll probably fall into a routine of continuing my weekly trips to the Merced Public Library for the latest books, while picking up an occasional book at a bookstore or church sale. I plan on using the e-reader for my self-described BMTR books.

BMTR books are books I’ve “been meaning to read”.  Last year, I promised myself to concentrate on classic literature.  That focus resulted in only one classic (A Picture of Dorian Gray) among the nearly fifty books I read in 2010.

With my e-reader, I can load up many more at low or no cost.  I may actually have a better shot of completing more of the classics this year.  Let’s hope so.

At any rate, I'll probably end up reading more thanks to my newest option for enjoying books.  And I haven't even started to explore the possibilities with getting newspaper and magazines through the e-reader.  It will be one step at a time for me as I expand my digital horizons.

I won more than just a prize the other night at the Chamber mixer.  I also won a new way to enjoy one of my favorite pastimes: reading.  I entered the digital age for books.  And I couldn't be happier.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced.

Volunteerism

My good friend Jim North invited me to speak before the Merced Kiwanis at the club’s February 16 meeting.  He asked me to prepare some comments about volunteerism as the club is trying to attract new members. Currently, I am on inactive status at another Merced service club.  My work demands take me away from regular club attendance so I asked my service club to put me on that status. 

What that means is that I remain linked to the organization, but am temporarily relieved from such membership requirements as regular meeting attendance.

I believe in volunteering for a number of reasons.  First of all, the Merced community needs it.  Any community with unemployment as high as Merced’s rate ~ certainly has more than its’ share of challenges. 

Volunteers can help identify needs, and rise to the occasion to meet these needs.

Volunteering benefits the person giving his or her time to a good cause.  Just ask the men and women of Merced Kiwanis about how they feel as they plan and work on a community project. 

Whether it’s their thirty-plus years as bell-ringers for the Salvation Army’s holiday fund drive, preparing turkeys to help feed over two-thousand people at the Thanksgiving dinner at the Merced Rescue Mission, or serving up pancakes at their annual fall breakfast, these volunteers are having a good time and feeling good about their community.

Merced Kiwanis also helps children in our community through scholarships, the Zoo-Boo Halloween event, the Junior Olympics, and the Special Olympics.  Club members feel good about the work they do.  Our children benefit from these volunteers, who also serve as role models for community stewardship.

I wrote about volunteerism as one of fourteen soft skills in my 2009 book Soft Skills for Hard Times. I wrote the book as a means to give credibility to employers who often tell me they could train an employee on a specific job, but that it was hard for them to teach someone on such soft skills as attitude or showing up ready to work. 

I took these common soft skills, added a few that I thought were relevant, and compiled a quick read on what gives employees an added advantage in today’s economy.  Naturally, I think volunteerism is an important soft skill.

In the chapter on volunteerism, I share the story of a friend of mine who had passed away at the age of eighty-four.  I first met him when he was on the interview team for a job that I was up for at a chamber of commerce. 

He took me to task for not having any volunteer activities on my resume.  I defended my resume by saying I was too busy working to have time for civic activities.  He didn’t like my answers and he let me know it. He was right.

Somehow, I was hired by the organization and I stayed there for ten years.  But I made it my business to inject myself into the community.  One sure fire way for me to do that was through volunteering.  I joined a civic club, stepped up my church related activities, and said, “yes” more and more when called up to serve in the community. 

I have my friend George to thank for showing me that volunteering matters.

There’s a country music song that George Strait, one of my favorite singers performs regularly.   One of the lines in that song goes like this:  “You don’t bring nothing with you here, and you can’t take nothing back.  I never saw a hearse with a luggage rack.”

The person who wrote those lyrics for George Strait is onto something.  We come to this life with nothing, and we can’t take anything with us when we leave.  What really matters is what we do during the time we’re here on this earth.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced